In which flat-sharing after graduation entails green-tiled bathrooms, cheap red wine and indolence. In which such novelties might be enough to distract a luckier man from his flatmate in the bedroom over. And in which Sirius Black is not a luckier man.
chapters: 1/1. word count: 18.6k. r/s. rating: mature.
And when Remus emerges from his room to wander into the kitchen at noon, sleep-smudged and gangly limbs, rubbing at the corners of his eyes, Sirius allows himself to watch with no small amusement as he flings open three cupboards in quick succession. Remus glances forlornly at their toaster, and then at Sirius. Blinks, as though only now registering his presence. There’s something thrilling in the moment he does.
“We ought to go shopping today,” Remus says, finally, voice like gravel. His hair sticks up at odd angles from being mashed into his pillow; Sirius tries not to find it so filthily endearing, because he’s probably too grumpy to do – that, right now.
“M’hungry. And we’re low on – er, everything. And we don’t even own any plates, and—” he steps towards Sirius, scrunches his nose, he’s lovely, “—you’re drinking beer? Out of a mug?”
Sirius shrugs. “We’re out of milk. And – all other beverages, actually. And…glasses.”
Remus’ face does several funny little things, then, all stumbling over each other. It settles on something akin to determination, in the end.
“Right,” he says. “We’re going shopping, then.”
Remus thinks for a moment (Sirius knows this is what he does, because he tips his head to the side, scratches it). “We drove past a Fine Fare on Saturday, could go there? Would’ve been a ten, fifteen-minute walk?”
“You know I don’t know what a Fine Fare is,” Sirius replies, plainly, watching Remus over the rim of his mug. Maybe it’s the beer, but suddenly he feels brave, here in their kitchen. “You do that all the time. You’re such a git, you know.”
Remus smiles, dimpled. Caught. Four hours later, they make it out of the door.
god, i'm proper done with this one. here you go.
